


Weather

by Nicole Crucial (moilArchitect)



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2012-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-30 16:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moilArchitect/pseuds/Nicole%20Crucial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some might think that it was a love like winter. Sango, of course, knew better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Melting

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of 200-word drabbles inspired by the prompts from the lj community 30kisses, set Omnicron, or Weather.

He was, supposedly, ice. Cold, unfeeling, perfect. He killed, he hunted, he kept himself alone and high above his peers in his quest for power—for honor.

To anyone else, the façade was flawless. But not to a taijiya, who made a living off of knowing the minds of demons.

She was the only one who wondered at the little girl by his side. She tortured herself at night, thinking about it— _why? It defies all logic. Youkai like him don't act this way…_

Hearts of ice don't watch sweet little girls dance in the sunlight.

He had changed. Or maybe he'd always been this way, a hidden core inside the layers of ice he tried to keep up on the outside. But how? One didn't just suddenly become something they were not.

One dewy morning, his face fresh on her mind (from a recent encounter, of course) as she packed up her belongings to the quiet (and sometimes not so quiet) background noises of her friends' chatter, her eyes were drawn to a single puddle by the side of the road.

It hit her suddenly, without warning. _He was like ice—_

 _That's it,_ she thought suddenly—surprised. _He's… melting._


	2. Broken Glass

She was baffling.

Not that Sesshoumaru would ever admit it—not that she was baffling and not that he was  _curious_  as to _why_ she was baffling—but she was.

Humans, Sesshoumaru had always mused, were like glass. Fragile, brittle—shattering when they hit the ground from even the most miniscule fall.  _Weak._  Not worth his time.

But this one. She was different. She'd fallen before and she'd fall again, and she  _knew_ it—he could see that—but every time, though she broke with each descent, she picked up the pieces and started anew. Why? Why was she different, in that when anyone else would have stayed down, she pieced herself back together and continued, a mess of broken glass and broken heart that just kept moving?

 _Baffling._  (Not that he'd ever say so.)

As, for inexplicable reasons, she wandered more and more onto his path (and he, being unadmittedly curious,  _let_  her), Sesshoumaru began to wonder. There was no doubt she was broken— _very_ broken. Shattered, even. But she was not brittle, she was not fragile, she was not  _weak._

Was she really just broken  _glass?_  Or could it be that she was, in all its simplicity— _broken?_


	3. Cold Sun

Sango had been traveling with her companions for a long while, and she was not without her means of entertaining herself. When the walks got too long or the going too boring, she played games with the weather.

Certain days brought certain people to her mind.

Warm, bright, cloudless spring afternoons reminded her of Kagome; cool, partly cloudy ones in the fall reminded her of Miroku. Tender green mornings were Shippou, honest summer storms with succeeding simple rainbows were Inuyasha, peaceful winter days with fierce potential were her mother. Jovial, windy-warm ones were her father, and when the skies rumbled dark and deep but never poured, it was Naraku. Days with ice and thaw were Kikyo, fierce windy ones were Kagura, and days in between that no one remembered were Kanna. Kohaku was a cathartic fall rain, sad and steady and stronger than expected.

Sometimes there were gray, melancholy autumn days that had both the potential for storm and shine, and they reminded her of herself.

And then… then there were those rare, peculiar days that reminded her of Sesshoumaru.

Days with pure, untouched whiteness and a ruthless cold sun.

But, she reminded herself, even a cold sun melts snow.


End file.
